


maybe in another universe.

by linoify



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Amnesia, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Bottom Han Jisung | Han, Car Accidents, Eventual Smut, First Love, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, Heavy Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Memories, Memory Loss, Misunderstandings, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Sad Lee Minho | Lee Know, Top Lee Minho | Lee Know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linoify/pseuds/linoify
Summary: in which minho is helplessly in love and married to the boy of his dreams; of course jisung returns his feelings, it's perfect.until jisung loses his memory in a car accident.and minho can't help but long for his jisung to come back, but jisung's right there.or, in which jisung loses his memory in a car crash and forgets several years of his life — including a certain lee minho.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written in a while, I know most people likely won’t read this but this is the rewritten version of this book! 
> 
> If you’re curious as to why I’m rewriting this book you can look at the notes of the original but I’d highly suggest this book over the original. 
> 
> I’ve already written several chapters for this book but I’ll update as constantly as I can and probably in bulk the more I write, thank you and I hope you enjoy~ 
> 
> [ORIGINAL](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/26720917)

Minho rarely took shifts this late into the night, but today he had no choice since he’d promised his senior students he’d give them an extra session to work on their self-choreographed dance. 

His entire body ached, he had taught at least thirteen classes that day. He didn't mind, it was his job; teaching and dance were two of his passions so it never felt like too much of a burden. 

In truth, the only concern he had was Jisung. Even with his great protests that he’d be fine taking the bus, Jisung swore he would fetch him from work. 

_‘You love me too much to try and stop me,’_ his infamous words which in honesty, Minho didn’t think made any sense, though he wasn’t one to argue with his valid point about loving him.

Minho glanced at Jisung no less than several times, if he weren’t so obvious maybe Jisung would’ve ignored it but he genuinely wasn’t in the mood. It was nearing midnight and all he really desired was to bury himself in his blankets and bask in the warmth of Minho’s arms.

“Min, what is it?”

Minho blinked hastily out of surprise as he finally registered Jisung’s soft voice over the radio, he subconsciously turned down the volume whilst trying to regain his thoughts. 

“Nothing bub, you just look _really_ tired,” he slyly emphasizes the ‘really’, though he knows it was inevitable, the younger had told him countless times about his stresses with college but he can’t help but still worry.

“It’s fine, _I’m fine._ ” 

It sounded more like Jisung was trying to convince himself more than anything. Minho wanted to trust him, _believe_ him. But as much as he’d like to think he was just overthinking, he knows he isn’t. 

He knows Jisung, more than _anyone_ ; the beautiful yet delicate wedding rings around both of their fingers were enough of an indication. 

“You can talk to me, you know that right?” Minho glanced back over at his lover, his expression soft although he wasn't sure Jisung could see as his eyes were fixated on the road. 

When he’d left for work he saw the forced smile paired with the dark bags under his eyes, the way he didn’t hold his hand on the way back to the car and the lack of sincerity in his goodbye kiss. 

When it came to Jisung, it was the little things that were more than enough to set alarms off in Minho's head signally something was wrong.

"My mind has just been so clouded with school,” he sighs, “I've edited this song so many fucking times but nothing‘s good enough, honestly maybe I’m just not good enough.” Jisung let out an airy laugh directed at himself, he realized how pathetic he probably sounds but his mind demanded to let it out. 

Minho frowned slightly, he knew it was only character for Jisung to doubt himself but it had always been the very thing Minho would want to change about the younger. Maybe he's biased, but no matter the circumstances, he’s certain in Jisung’s abilities, and that much he’s sure about.

"Sungie, you're amazing, I mean it," he pauses for a moment to gather the right words, "I know I probably can't be of much help but I believe in you." Minho cautiously looked over at the boy sitting in the driver's seat, a small smile had formed.

Jisung looked back at him with fondness in his eyes, the red traffic lights illuminating Minho’s features in a way only Jisung could admire. It’s as if every day Minho proved to him that marrying him truly was the best decision he’d made in his entire life. 

This was home, Minho is _home_. Safe, comforting, loving; everything felt right.

Three words Han _Lee_ Jisung only ever said with such integrity to one person too soon became the last words that left his lips as a car came full speed their way.

"I love you,"

...

Minho flinched, abruptly coming back to reality. He tries to grab something as if to support the incoming impact which he realizes isn’t coming because _he’s_ safe _._ He isn’t in that car anymore. 

_What about Jisung? Is he safe?_

He shuts his eyes for a moment trying to calm his erratic breathing and racing thoughts. It had become routine for him to relive the traumatic memories of the crash the moment he shut his eyes. It was also the reason he barely got any proper rest. 

He dreaded closing his eyes and awakening to the vision of Jisung’s limp body beside him in that car, the shards of glass surrounding them both, Minho barely able to lift his arm, he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes.

“Fuck,” he curses as he reaches for his phone to check the time, his arm goes rigid as the screen displays several missed calls.

“Yongbok, what’s wrong? Aren’t you at the hospital with Jisung?” he heard soft sniffles, paired with Felix’s trembling voice on the opposite line.

“Hyung, please come to the hospital,”

...

The brutal feeling of sitting beside Jisung’s inert body in his hospital bed for several weeks, staring helplessly at the boy he loved, so desperate for him to wake up and it all be fine. He could only pray this was some sick joke, a horrifying nightmare that would vanish the moment he comes back to consciousness. 

But no, he’s here covered in bandages though no injury of his came close to the damage of Jisung's, more specifically the growing lump on the younger’s pale forehead where he’d hit his head against the dashboard. The dried blood had been cleaned off as much as possible and the bruise seemed to have healed slightly, letting Minho’s body loosen somewhat. 

The truck had smashed into Jisung’s side of the car, meaning he had endured the worst of it and Minho knows it _should’ve been him_ , he should’ve been the one to end up in a coma. But at the same time, he can’t handle Jisung ever having to endure the sheer suffering and anxiety it caused him. 

_What would Jisung want?_

He shakily takes Jisung’s motionless hand into his own, it was cold. It reminded him of the days when they were both still teenagers, he'd hold Jisung’s cool hands without a single care in the world, they had _each other_. 

The pretty little lies they called _excuses;_ one of them being that he only held Jisung’s hand to keep him warm. 

_A lie._

But this was different, Minho didn’t know that Jisung could even feel his warmth. Jisung was no longer merely Minho’s small high school crush that he so helplessly pined over. He was the love of his life, who he could only hope that by some fate was semi-conscious and knew he was there. He bites down on the dry layer of skin on his lips trying to suppress the tears that threatened to fall, he rested his head against the bed not wanting to look Jisung in the eyes.

"I miss you so much, _angel_.”

...

Minho was spiralling. He felt as though seconds became years the longer the doctors made him sit there waiting. Even Felix was kicked out and sat beside the restless boy. 

“Minho-Hyung they’re just doing their job-”

“Fuck their useless job,” Minho’s inevitable snap had set its course and in result caused him to act on every impulse.

Felix’s attempt to stop Minho from running off to Jisung’s room was simply that, an _attempt_. The next thing Minho knew he was standing outside Jisung’s room trying to decipher the incoherent words being spoken inside, none resembled that of Jisung’s causing his heart to speed up.

“How bad might it be?” the nurse only shook her head at the doctor, either she was hiding something or she truly didn’t know. Minho was fucking tired, tired of secrets, of not knowing everything, especially not when Jisung was in that room, _awake_.

“Anywhere from months, to years.”

...

The deafening silence that filled the car caused Minho’s grip on the steering wheel to tighten, his knuckles turning white at the force. 

Minho noticed how Jisung’s eyes ricocheted absolutely everywhere in and out of the car yet never anywhere remotely in his direction. 

There were so many things wanted to say, he _wished_ he could say. The more he tries to focus on anything besides Jisung, everything full circles back to him stronger than the time prior.

“Seem familiar at all?” Minho’s voice was soft, a cluster of mumbles at that point. Jisung sat up slightly giving the street a long look, his brows furrowed as he examined each tree and passing pedestrians. The desperation to find any form of familiarity in the view, but still _nothing._

He just shakes his head, “sorry,” he mumbles sinking further into his seat. 

Minho forces what he hopes looks like a reassuring smile, “It’s alright,”

It’s not.

Not when this was the area they’d been living in for the past year. He should understand, he should face the reality of how hard this probably was for Jisung. He had already controlled the desire to pull the younger into a hug and finally feel his warmth against his skin again, telling him how much he missed him. 

Though he was well aware that wasn’t an option anymore. 

"It’s Minho.. correct?" the questioning tone that laced his words only made it hurt a thousand times more. 

Minho gave a weak nod, not daring to speak in the fear he wouldn’t be able to keep it together. He stared directly at the road, trying to ignore the feeling of Jisung’s eyes piercing through his skin. 

“How are you feeling?” He isn't sure whether he actually wants to start a conversation or if this was some sick way of getting to hear Jisung’s voice and remind him that he’s _right here_ , right next to him. 

Instead, he receives an airy laugh, although it was anything but joyful it feels so familiar. He realizes it’s the first time he’d heard him laugh in weeks. 

He misses it, he misses _him._

That’s when it hit him that nothing had changed, he still looked at Jisung with the same fondness and love he used to although there was fear, the love never dissipated, he still had the urge to hold his hand, to hear him laugh. 

The accident didn’t change _anything_. 

Nothing; except that Jisung _can’t_ remember him.

Jisung looks at Minho and there’s _nothing_ there. No weight, no traces of what used to be theirs. Jisung looks at him like it’s the first time, strange and searching. There’s nothing warm about it anymore. Distant and fleeting, Minho wonders if he'll be able to see it again; able to see that same love in the younger's eyes.

_It’s cold._ Their wedding ring on his fourth finger; looking at it felt as though it was taunting him. The cool feeling against his skin, the way it shined against the soft moonlight. 

“I don’t know, _scared?_ I guess,” Jisung finally answers, Minho can’t help but think how much he sounds like Jisung. He shouldn’t be surprised, he is Jisung, this was Jisung.

“How so?”

Jisung’s gaze was low by his hands as he fiddled with them trying to calm his building anxiety, “well, I don't actually.. know _who you are.”_

Minho laughs pathetically, it’s almost comical if he thinks about it hard enough. All these years, quite literally going to hell and back for _this_ , for it to all suddenly vanish over a single occurrence. He’d realizes the saying that _one small thing couldn’t change everything_ was pure bullshit. Not that getting into a life threatening car crash then ending up in a coma was anywhere near ‘small’.

The man sat beside him was the same one he married a year ago and also fell in love with years prior and yet he doesn’t remember _any of it._ He glances down at Jisung's hands which are now carefully folded in his lap, the same cold feeling when he realizes Jisung's ring finger is empty.

“I saw the documents,” Jisung rests his head against the window, Minho nodded in response. 

“Sorry if it’s a lot for you,” he realizes he’s apologizing for being Jisung’s husband. 

Jisung says nothing more, he just stares with empty, tired eyes out the window. Jisung wants to say it’s alright, that it _isn’t_ a lot for him. But that would be more than just a minor lie. 

It _wasn’t_ alright, his head throbbed, it felt as though someone was continuously throwing bricks at his head and so the affliction coursed through his entire body. His body felt weak to the point he was convinced he couldn’t support himself without falling over. 

Everytime Minho would stop at a street to see if anything looked familiar the worse his headache became, he felt powerless and wasn’t even sure he cared enough to try to recover any memories, at least not _right now._

  
  


It stings, the way Minho holds the steering wheel, but he closes his mouth and swallows it whole knowing he’s being selfish. _This isn’t about him, this is about Jisung._

“Is there anything you want? Before we get home?”

There’s a silence that devours them once again. 

A month ago, it was Jisung at the back of the steering wheel. Now it’s him, but he never failed to remember the sound of shattering glass and the feeling of being thrown out of his seat.

“Just need rest,” Jisung says forwardly, not bothering to be deceptive, his words were partially slurred from drowsiness, already evident enough in the way his shoulders slump, and the heavy flutter of his eyelids. He looked undeniably tired, though Minho knew it was far deeper than that, Jisung seemed to notice the look of distress. “I’m alright, Minho.”

Minho doesn’t respond, several — hundreds of things he wants to say hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he knows better than to not voice them, "we’re almost home," Minho peers to his right, indicating to turn onto their street. 

Their apartment, _home,_ even before they got married they were certain they'd move to Seoul together. He can still vividly remember the way Jisung's face lit up when they first walked through the empty apartment. 

The slight bounce in his step as he firmly held Minho's hand dragging him through every room explaining exactly how he’d furnish each and every one. He remembers when they bought it and how excited the younger got at the thought of them having their own home, in which he could decorate and make his own to his every desire.

Minho always playfully complained about the money he'd spend on things he saw as useless, but in reality, he loved it, he loved every small thing Jisung did. Every stupid plant he'd buy, every miniature matching cat and squirrel sculpture he'd buy in hopes of it making Minho happy — and it did, he _wishes_ he could tell him that it did, that everything he did made him happy. He made everything feel _okay_ even when it wasn’t. 

The sudden influx of thoughts was inescapable because it was, and it has always been _their home._ But as his eye catches the glint of his ring, it dawns on him that maybe it's not anymore. 

Maybe now it's only his.

…

He awkwardly taps Jisung’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him, after a while his eyes fluttered open, he rubbed his eyes realizing they’d arrived at _Minho’s_ house. 

Minho showed him the directions to their place, it felt odd, both having Jisung back at the apartment again as well as having to show Jisung where to go. 

Jisung's silly races to the front door determining who would wash the dishes were no more than a thing of the past. Truthfully, Minho purposefully lost each time so Jisung would have time to rest after his long days with classes.

He shuffled through his pockets in search of his keys, only then did he realize his hands were trembling. He fumbled around trying to get the key into the hole, unfortunately, Jisung had already noticed. He said nothing as he took the keys out of the older’s hand, unlocking the door. 

Minho pauses for a moment, partially out of embarrassment that he needed assistance opening a door but mainly because of the small contact they'd made in the process.

There was a silence that once again washed over them as they walked in, Minho pointing to where Jisung could remove his shoes. He complied before they were both standing awkwardly, not looking each other in the eye.

"If I remembered correctly.. they said there's a chance I can get my memories back?" Jisung broke the silence, once again doubting himself, Minho nodded.

"It’s unlikely you’ll get them all back, maybe _parts,_ snippets I guess," Jisung didn't say anything else, his eyes scanning the room. A part of Minho foolishly hoped that if Jisung looked around their apartment even a single memory would come back. He quickly dismisses the thought, realizing he should probably show Jisung around.

"Do you want to shower?" Jisung finally looks at Minho looking slightly dazed, he nods slowly. Minho indicates for him to follow behind allowing the boy to pick whatever he wants from his own closet. He came out holding a blush pink colored set of pajamas, Minho then directed him toward the bathroom leaving him to his own accord.

Minho was finally able to have a brief but _needed_ moment to simply stop and breathe knowing Jisung was really here and _alive_ , even if it didn't entirely feel like it, he was no longer stuck in the hospital staring hopelessly at the still body terrified he may never open his eyes again. The seemingly endless offwhite walls of the hospital were soon to become a forgotten memory, something he hoped to soon erase. 

Jisung had found a seat at the kitchen countertop while Minho stood directly on the opposite side. He found himself staring at Jisung's towel-dried hair which looked incredibly soft, he so badly wanted to plant soft kisses on the younger’s forehead and remind him he was the prettiest human being he'd ever met. He didn't care how cliché it sounded or the way he almost cringed at his own words; it was the soft giggles that would leave Jisung's lips as he buried his face into Minho's chest.

Jisung’s hands crossed over his stomach as if he were trying to hide something, Minho furrowed his brows but dismissed the thoughts when he heard the young clear his throat. 

"Do I have a job?" Jisung awkwardly tapped the counter with the tips of his fingers as if it would pass time. Minho mentally punished himself, he had been so caught up in his own head he hadn’t thought to give Jisung a proper run down. Yes, the doctors did give him a brief ‘questioning’ to see what he did and didn’t remember and tried to fill in significant gaps but Minho knew it _all._ Every small detail, significant or not. 

"Of course, sorry, you're a music student. You go to the University of Seoul for music production." 

Jisung's eyes formed ovals at his shock, a slight sparkle in his eye as he looked expectantly at the older. It was the first time in what felt like a long time he'd seen such life in his eyes. Minho was slightly confused as to why the boy seemed so astounded but he didn't overthink it, instead, he thought of what other fundamental information he should probably consider sharing.

“I actually did it,” he muttered to himself, Minho barely catching his words.

“Did what?"

“I thought my passion for music was going to remain some childhood dream,” he starts, “I always wanted to buy a house and.. fall in love." 

Minho wants to ask if he did if he achieved his dreams and fell in love. If he _remembers_ _falling in love_.

"But I don't remember achieving any of it,”

_Of course._

"What do you remember?" he suddenly blurted, Minho halted his movement as he proceeded what he'd just said. As he’s about to express his regret, a small apologetic laugh comes from the younger. Minho gulps, his laugh, his misses him, but again, _he's right there._

Jisung hums to himself as though he's genuinely thinking about it, he lowers his gaze cautiously thinking whether or not to ask. But he knows the thought wouldn’t stop nagging him if he didn’t ask.

"Do you know why Hyunjin and I broke up?” 

Minho blinks, surprised. He doesn’t recall nor want to know when the last time was that he had heard that name leave Jisung’s lips with such indifference.

“You remember him?”

“I don’t remember much after him.. In my mind, we’re still together."

  
  


Oh.

  
  


_Oh._

  
  


Minho wasn't sure whether he wanted to hear that, or if he should be glad Jisung had told him while his mind was half asleep. If he were still his angsty teenage self he'd likely have just got up and outright left the room. Though he knows to be more mature, he has changed, mainly because of Jisung. He hoped Jisung would just drop the topic, a slight wave of anger washed over him and built an imaginary pit inside his stomach.

Minho stared blankly at Jisung who finally looked directly into Minho's eyes, not so much because he looked as though he wanted to, but more so as if he was pleading for an answer, an answer about _Hyunjin._

The name itself caused his thoughts to spiral, knowing even if he tried to talk about it his emotions would fuck him over. Jisung suddenly broke the suffocating eye contact with Minho, his leg subconsciously starting to bounce — getting anxious at the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Not sure, you told me it just wasn't working." he bluntly said, no set emotion in his tone, it almost caught Jisung off guard, he doesn't think he'd seen this side of Minho at all and he wasn't entirely sure what triggered it nor did he enjoy it. It intimidated him, he was _almost_ _scared_ of Minho.

"That, I don't remember,"

  
  


"Breaking up with him?"

  
  


"No," he corrects. "Falling out of love with him."

Minho only nods looking down at the counter desperate to find a way to change the subject, his fist clenching at his pent-up annoyance. He didn't need to relapse the hell hole of thoughts that would inevitably flood his head if he thought about it, about _him._

_Hwang Hyunjin. Han Jisung's first love._

His childish pride made it impossible for him to accept the reality that the man in front of him was a version of his husband without a single memory of himself and to add to that was still in love with _that boy._ The _perfect_ boy next door, childhood friends to lovers, he didn't _want_ to care. But it seems it was too late. Jisung's eyelids seemed to flutter as though he could pass at any moment. Minho cursed to himself glancing at the clock realizing the time. He mentally apologized not in the mood to properly apologize.

"Do you want to sleep?" 

The answer was more than obvious but unlike before he couldn’t just pick up the yawny boy and carry him to _their_ room, tuck him into bed, kiss him goodnight-

_Stop._

Jisung just nods, “Should I sleep in the spare room?"

It was at that moment it finally dawned on him they wouldn't be sleeping in the same bed anymore.

"Uh, I'll sleep in the spare room. You can sleep in our.. my room."

Jisung doesn't fully respond although his body language looked to be enough of an okay. He appears hesitant at first but remembers Minho had shown him around and tries his best to recall the pathing to the room he had called _theirs._

Jisung glanced back at Minho who was staring blankly at the wall, "Goodnight Minho," Jisung mumbles as he walks into Minho’s room.

_"Hm, ok then what's the first thing you'll do at the end of your first day back with Jisung?" Changbin asks, trying to lighten the mood, "I'll say, goodnight angel."_

"Night," Minho responds.


	2. TWO

Minho groans as he opens his eyes for a moment, the sunlight almost blinding him. He rolled extending his arms to where he'd usually feel a curled up, warm small Sungie. Instead, it's _cold and empty_. It had already been over a month since the accident yet Minho’s still not sure he’ll ever get used to the emptiness, the missing dip in the bed beside him, and soft snores making the bed feel awfully bigger than it really was. He partially opens his eyes slowly adjusting to the light while he ruffles his hair in an attempt to tame it, he's caught by surprise when he finds Jisung in the kitchen with a glass of water.

"Good morning Minho," he gives a small smile, Minho doesn't seem to answer, his face still blank. Jisung awkwardly chews at his lip, slightly uncomfortable but also understanding Minho was likely going through his own shit. He isn’t sure how he'd even begin to try to process your _own husband_ forgetting the very bane of your existence, frankly, it sounded like a nightmare "I was wondering about school.." Minho hummed in response, starting to fill the kettle with water, “when, like how.. how do I do school?" He says dumbly. Minho chuckled lightly, his expression soon faltering back to its prior dull, cold manner.

"They’re already aware of the situation, you won't have to complete your finals unless you wanted," Minho pauses for a minute, slight déjà vu at the thought of Jisung's college finals. That was what Jisung had been so anxious about before _that_ night.

"Don’t stress too much, I'm _sure_ you're equally as talented as you are.. were?" He’s unsure how to word his sentences anymore, but guesses Jisung is smart enough to interpret what he’s attempting to imply. He doesn't seem to catch the light blush that brushes over the younger's cheeks at Minho's statement.

"Hyung, what about you? What are you doing today?" Minho appears taken back at the sudden honorific, if he were honest, he hated it, but chose to let it go knowing Jisung was only trying to be polite.

"I've got a few classes to teach till late afternoon, then I'm picking up the kids,” he says nonchalantly, he glances in Jisung's direction noticing his eyes doubling in size and his jaw going slack. "What?.." Minho quirks a brow, beyond confusion as to whatever it was he said that had dazed him so much.

Jisung seems dumbfounded, ".. _kids_?" He squeaks, Minho's expression quickly changes before he burst out laughing. The situation was not so funny for the other who was incredibly confused and also terrified that he might've just been informed he had children he'd also forgotten about.

"Cats, Jisung, my cats,” he finally confirms his error, still chuckling, Jisung feels incredibly stupid burying his head in his hands as he let out a _‘right, of course’_ out of embarrassment.

"Uh.. Anyway, can I watch your dance classes?" Jisung desperately tried to change the subject, but still asks what he had planned to say, before the _unexpected_ _miscommunication_. Minho had briefly mentioned that he was a teacher at a dance studio on their long drive home from the hospital the day prior.

Minho seems quite surprised but also pleased, “Only if you’re up to it,” a hint of concern in his words.

Jisung smiles in response, "Hyung, stop worrying about me, think of it as a _‘get to know each other’_ field trip."

Minho almost scoffs, _‘get to know each other field trip’_ with his husband. His mind trails off to _what_ they were. The status of their relationship deemed to be an open case to either party, still, despite whatever _marriage_ may be written on paper — signed away by law was far from the fact they were barely acquaintances to Jisung. 

...

Minho made the educated guess that Jisung had found the laptop he’d told him he used for school, considering he’d been fiddling with it the whole car ride to his dance studio. Minho wouldn’t dare admit that he was slightly — _very_ distracted by the pretty hums that came from Jisung as he smiled at whatever he was listening to through the earphones. Minho chuckled to himself, realizing Jisung probably hadn’t realized he was humming. The older was fairly certain the other was yet to discover those earphones weren't his, not that he cared. 

...

Jisung awkwardly trailed behind Minho who tenderly greeted those he passed, he tried his best to stay out of view from the many people swarming each room as possible but it was difficult considering how crowded the place was. Jisung felt his hand tremor lightly at the density of the crowd, he forced out a smile at the random kids who greeted him as _Han_ along with a range of honorifics. 

Minho finished chatting with the young girl who’d stopped him to ask if Minho would buy her another strawberry milk from the vending machine, to which he said his mother might get mad but still promises to the girl that, one day. Minho smiles patting the girl on the head before turning around, his expression dropping at the look of uneasiness displayed on Jisung’s face as his younger students surrounded him.

“Kids, let’s give Hannie some space okay?” Minho points towards the room the young dancers would be for their lesson, leaving only an embarrassed Jisung.

“You just.. saved me from a bunch of 10-year-olds,” he wants to make a joke out of it, but the irregularity in the pitch of his voice seems to unmask him. 

“I should’ve told you there’s a lot of people here at this hour, I can bring you home-“

“Hyung, I said _I’m fine_ , I just need to get used to it,” only the corner of Jisung’s mouth lifts as he reassures the other that he’s okay. There’s an emptiness in what should be sincerity, but he guesses maybe it’s the lack of trust the pair now had, far different from what they _once_ had.

Minho explained that he had three consecutive lessons before a break, he suggested bringing Jisung home then: if he got bored. If Jisung was honest, he couldn't help but worry, three whole hour and a half lessons of dancing seemed far too draining to any normal person. But as Minho began teaching, he quickly understood why Minho would put himself through such labor. The way his body moved to the beat along with his clear understanding of the music and control over his body amazed Jisung. He couldn't help but gawk; every other person in the room seemed to fade away. He focused only on Minho until he seemed to have been caught, Minho made eye contact directly at Jisung through the mirror, smirking slightly as the seductive music played. Jisung's cheeks warmed up as he swiftly averted his eyes.

That was when Jisung first realized, Minho was _fucking beautiful_.

Not that he didn't realize the _first_ time he'd seen him in the hospital, but watching him do something he so clearly loved with such passion only attracted the younger more to the brunette. He turned to the mirror looking at his hair, it was bleached to a cool silver, his roots had grown out quite a lot. The last he remembered he still had his natural hair, never having dyed it anything but different shades of brown. The revelation once again reminded him how little he knew. 

He huffed realizing how he hardly even began to compare to Minho, he peers over at him — he was counting the beat while observing his students for mistakes with cold eyes. He was somewhat squatting, allowing him to have a better view.

“Seojun-ah, go from the chorus again, just you,” he sharply says, to which the boy obeyed, doing a short performance for the rest of the group, “you should’ve practiced that section more in your own time if you weren’t so confident.” Minho quirks his eyebrow at the boy who nodded hastily. He didn’t seem _that_ scared of Minho — maybe a hint of intimidation was what Minho used to get them to do better when his students were visibly lacking. “Good, Yujun make sure to remind your friend over there to practice his part and Youngchul you need to work on your flexibility, this song requires a lot of it,” he hums to himself thinking if he’d missed any vital information, “alright, well done today guys, that’s it for today you can pack up and head off,” the teenagers were soon rushing out the door or running to grab their things. 

Jisung couldn’t help but admire his work, he wasn’t explicitly impertinent or harsh with his students. He was only stern in a way that showed he just wanted them to improve to teach their full potential. Maybe that was why he fell in love with him, _back then_. He secretly hopes he’ll eventually put the pieces together and understand why he might’ve fallen in love with that boy. As well as what on Earth he could’ve done to win over someone so out of his league and far beyond his standards. 

Minho's first three classes had finally ended; not that Jisung cared, he had enjoyed getting to purely goggle at Minho for over three hours and he'd easily do it again. 

"Sorry, that took so long, want to go home? I have a small break." Jisung only shook his head as he looked down towards the ground, discreetly avoiding looking at the sweating mess Minho was directly above him.

"You're really.. talented,” he mumbled, playing with the laces of his shoes like they were more interesting than the work of art only less than a meter away from him.

Minho’s expression faltered for a moment before he smiled, "Thank you, Sungie,” Jisung barely processed the nickname, before Minho had already put down his water bottle squatting down to Jisung's eye level. He took the younger’s slim chin on the top of his finger tilting it slightly, giving him access to the side of his head. "Staring isn’t going to get you anywhere baby," he whispered for only Jisung to hear, teasingly patting his head as he bounced back onto his feet walking back to his class.

_Fuck._

...

Minho was putting away the last of the mats into the storage room which the last students had just left on the ground, Jisung helping without being asked. Jisung was startled as the door to the studio suddenly swung open.

"H-Hannie?" a surprised voice resonated through the previously silent room. Jisung can’t help but faintly recognize the voice, he turns around to be face to face with the same blonde boy he'd seen almost every day in the hospital with him, he recalled his name was Felix. Jisung smiled, giving the boy a small wave. "Hyung, hopefully, you don't mind, but I brought Changbin." Jisung peered around the door, finally noticing a second boy behind Felix, probably a little older than himself but shorter. Changbin looked at Jisung with an unreadable expression, before letting out his hand with a soft smile.

"Seo Changbin, Felix's boyfriend." Jisung wasn't sure whether Changbin was introducing himself because he knew Jisung wouldn't remember or because Jisung had literally never met him. 

It’s humorous in some cynical way; some unusual game in which Jisung has to guess whether it’s a genuine first meeting or a second-first introduction to a person.

As if Changbin could hear his thoughts, "We used to be quite close," he chuckles timidly, Jisung just nods unsure how to respond considering Changbin would already know who he was, maybe even better than himself if that was possible. Felix finally breaks the awkward atmosphere, grabbing Changbin's hand to which Changbin automatically complied, taking the other’s small hand in his own. 

Jisung couldn't help but be reminded of a certain someone, _Hyunjin_.

"Anyway, I've got a few lessons to take after Minho-Hyung! I teach here too,” he explains, “Binnie was just dropping me off!" Felix grinned, Minho hummed in response before glancing at Jisung who seemed to be in his own world, he gulped signaling to Felix that he could take the room as they'd finished cleaning up. Minho walked towards Jisung gently, taking his hand, causing the young to flinch, his attention suddenly on the hand Minho had touched.

"Ah, sorry," he repeated a couple of times while muttering incoherent curses to himself.

He remembers the first time Jisung had the day off from college and watched Minho's classes as he did today. They were still only dating and living apart, but Jisung had made an extra effort to finish all his work to watch Minho at his new studio. 

_“You’re really.. talented,”_ Jisung blushed.

Minho cooed at how cute he found his boyfriend giving him a loving peck on the cheek before skipping back to his class. 

…

  
  


Minho leaned against the wall chucking down his fifth bottle of water in the last hour.

_“You shouldn’t overwork yourself, love,”_ Jisung frowned, pushing the stray hairs out of the other’s face. 

_“You’re cute,”_ Minho mutters, teasing the younger while also avoiding his scolds.

_“I’m serious...”_ Jisung huffs, wanting to be taken seriously. 

_“I know, I know. I won’t angel, don’t worry too much about me okay?”_

Jisung nodded, he trusted him. He took the other’s hand carefully into his own, Minho’s hand automatically interlocking itself with Jisung’s. A gentle pink hue dusted Jisung’s pale cheeks as they walked to their car, Minho was more than certain he was in love and couldn’t help but conceptualize that Jisung felt the same.

But he forgot; _he forgot that Jisung forgot._

They sat in the car still parked outside the studio, having not yet left. Minho was on his phone texting Felix updates on which choreographs to teach to which class as he'd forgotten to tell him while they were still inside. Jisung glanced between Minho and the closed laptop in his lap waiting patiently for them to leave.

“Want anything on the way home?” Minho asked while stuffing his phone into the cup holder buckling his seat belt.

Jisung instantly shook his head, “No thank you,” he muttered.

“You haven’t eaten all day,” Minho reminded the younger who sat timidly beside him.

“I did,”

“You had a glass of water, Sung.”

“Hyung, I said _no thank you_.”

...

They finally arrived at the apartment, Minho hadn’t pestered the younger any further about the food situation, he wanted to think he was being honest. But he couldn’t pass over the pit of worry that grew in his stomach as he remembered Jisung’s extreme dysmorphia that had only partly improved in the year they’d moved in together and Minho had helped Jisung with getting the support he needed.

Minho peered over at Jisung who was curled up on the couch, he stopped himself from wanting to go up to the younger and hug him, call him cute while planting soft kisses on his pink cheeks.

“Min, you’re staring..”

Minho went rigid cursing himself for his idiocy, “Ah I’m sorry, I’ll go-”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Jisung said under his breath, Minho had to listen so intently to even catch the first few syllables of his sentence. 

He smirked piecing together what he’d heard, “you’re cute,” 

Jisung rolled his eyes, his eyes meeting Minho’s in a faux annoyance, “I know,” 

Minho scoffed, “Oh is that so?” Jisung nodded with a mischievous grin, he wasn’t entirely aware of what he was getting himself into. Not that he cared. 

“Well yeah, don’t you think I’m cute?” Jisung quirked, a brow with a teasing smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Minho blinked hesitantly; a habit he'd only become aware of because of every time Jisung would remind him how apparently pretty he was when he did it, “I think you’re very cute actually,” Minho’s more than familiar with how to win over the younger, although he can only presume those tactics would still be of use with his amnesiac of a husband. 

Jisung whined quickly, giving up and sinking further into the couch, Minho thinks he might melt into the furniture if he tries falling any further into it. Minho chuckles before heading to the kitchen, leaving Jisung on his own with absolutely nothing to do. 

Jisung fiddled with his phone in search of an app he was yet to explore, he wasn’t entirely sure he was prepared just yet to look through something like a camera roll, a level of intimacy and actuality he was afraid of. He scanned the pages skipping over the few games he saw knowing it was highly unlikely he’d find anything worth his time on them, his mouth replicated a circle as he was intrigued by a certain music app. He scrolls through his playlists trying to see if any of the music resembled that of what he remembered, he frowns finding quite literally none of the artists he knew he liked. Though he isn’t all that surprised, the chances of his eighteen-year-old self and twenty-two-year-old self having the same music taste were far from a realistic ideal. 

The playlist was titled, ‘민’ only containing a single song. _‘Min’_ , one of the few names he was certain he had a face and person to pair with. He whistled softly as he paired his phone with the Bluetooth speaker that was situated beside the tv, he pressed play squealing as the volume was far louder than he’d anticipated. 

His head tilts slightly as the song starts playing, he peers down at his phone reading the title, _‘AGAIN’_ by EDEN.

_‘And everyone could be against us_

_I don’t even care_

_They don’t know just what we got_

_But I’ll say this now_

_I’ll never let you down’_

In truth, Jisung isn’t sure he’d ever felt something when a fragment of what he presumed is a memory returned. Maybe the only one being when he partly recalled his coming out to his parents, though the memory was still hazy and incomplete, the joy it brought him seemed too significant to be _completely_ forgotten. But as he sits there listening to the song he can’t help but _feel it — something_. He doesn’t know _what_ he feels. But it feels _right_. Jisung doesn’t notice Minho walk back into the living room, his eyes wide, he looks scared, really fucking scared.

“Do you know this song?” he asks quietly, not wanting to startle the younger. 

Jisung shakes his head hesitantly, “Minho, why can I feel it?”

Minho’s expression softens as he notices how tense Jisung had become, “Feel what?”

Jisung just shakes his head, he can’t answer; not because he doesn’t want to but because he _can’t_. He doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t know why his chest feels heavy or why tears threaten to fall from his woeful eyes. Jisung looked up at Minho with a sorry smile. It was as though he were trying to say I’m fine with his eyes, and Minho understood that. But whether he trusted it was different. 

Minho doesn’t know anymore, he doesn’t know if he can look in Jisung’s eyes and just know. It used to be something he was so proud of, that he so easily knew what Jisung was thinking or what he was trying to communicate through his eyes. He isn’t so sure anymore because as he looks Jisung in the eye he doesn’t see the same person hiding behind the mask. He sees someone else, _someone he doesn’t know_ , someone he’s unable to recognize. 

...

"Jisung, I'm going to go out for a few minutes to pick up the cats. Do you mind staying home alone for a bit?" 

Jisung just nodded, although mentally he possessed the mind of an eighteen-year-old, he was fairly capable at staying home alone for a few hours. 

Minho nodded, "grab anything from the fridge if you're hungry.. are you sure you don’t want anything while I'm out?" 

Jisung pondered for a moment, he had noticed the look of concern in Minho’s expression earlier when he’d refused food. But at the same time, he didn’t want to waste Minho’s money by throwing out the food he’d get. He wondered if his _past self_ would still like iced americanos and cheesecake or if that had become a liking of the past.

"An iced americano, if that's not troublesome to get." 

Minho smiled, his body relaxing a bit, "Of course, I'll get the usual,” he said before the front door shut. 

Jisung made the wild guess that he _did_ still like iced americanos. He stood up not sure what to do, he walked towards Minho's room, or more so _their_ room. He peered over at the bedside table searching for his phone. He eventually found it in the many folds of his baggy blanket, opening it with his fingerprint since he didn't know the password. His only worry at that moment was getting locked out of his phone if he wasn't careful. Although he’s glad, losing your memory didn’t mean your identity changing. He only prayed Minho might know the password. He hummed songs to himself as he clicked on the camera roll, he scrolled to the top, in the process noticing how few pictures he had of himself. Frankly, it was on a whim and he knew he was setting himself up for extreme cognitive exhaustion but fuck it.

Curiosity got the best of him and he ended up watching what felt like hundreds of videos of cats which he guessed were the cats Minho was out getting now. He couldn't help but feel like he was invading someone else's privacy, he refused to acknowledge that this was once _his life_. 

That's when he started coming across different videos, _'Min baby, look at the camera,'_ the voice in the video was soft but he knew it was his. There was a half-asleep Minho, coincidentally in the exact spot, he was laying on. There were muffled groans that came from Minho as Jisung heard himself giggle trying to get the funny filter onto his sleeping husband. _'You look cute~'_ then the video stopped.

He had always wondered what Minho used to be like, how he used to act when he had _his Jisung_. He guesses maybe these videos were enough of an indication of what he was like back then. But he can’t help but be reminded of the way Minho sometimes reaches his hand towards him, then quickly pulls away as if he remembers to not touch, or when he scoots closer to him but hastily moves back at the last moment. He assumes it’s muscle memory, which only aided his desire to know what he’s like when he’s being affectionate. Not that he _wanted_ Minho to be affectionate with him, just, _general curiosity_. 

He kept scrolling, finding pictures of Felix and Changbin along with hundreds more pictures and videos of Minho. He wondered, how long had he known Minho? Clearly long enough for him to marry him. They were both still fairly young, one of the prime factors in why he refused to believe he was married when the doctors explained the situation. He was already 22, if he’d gotten married at 21 and his memory retained to around the age of 18 — had he only known Minho for 4 years? He almost wants to doubt the doctor's knowledge of having only lost memories of the past 4 years. He lets out an airy chuckle, he must’ve been madly in love to have gotten married so quickly. He never thought of himself to be the type to commit, let alone settle down _this much_.

He found himself wandering to the bathroom, it was a reasonably sized area, the counter separated into two halves, it didn’t take a genius to guess which was his own. He glanced over the different items of makeup and skincare products that were lined up before him in a somewhat neat manner. He smiled to himself as he recalls commenting about how he thought the color of the decor didn’t match the overall aesthetic, Minho going on a tangent about how wholeheartedly he agreed, explaining how Jisung’s past self failed to agree.

Jisung looked up, staring in the mirror at an image he barely recognized. His faded silver hair was disheveled and quite unattractive with the obtrude black roots that had already grown out. His black shirt and pants hung off his body. He hated the slight curve and form his silhouette now had, his weight had to himself visibly worsened. He stared in anguish and displeasure at his body. His thighs had become less defined, a thin layer of fat had swelled. The image didn't resemble the shapeless high school boy Jisung knew himself to be. _You’re disgusting_ he thought, peering with a fit of growing anger at the mirror. 

_‘Sungie, you’re beautiful,’_

What he guesses is some internal monologue seems to be the very opposite. It feels _familiar_ like he could hear it - see it even. 

Everything except feel it; _Jisung couldn’t feel it_. Despite how much he begs for his mind to let himself _feel_ , feel whatever it was he _used to feel_. The warmth and comfort he may have once found in a person, a place, a song was gone, it felt meaningless, there were no longer any strings attached as if what he saw and felt wasn’t his own. 

But it was.

He found himself starting to look around the bedroom, soon through the bookshelves. His hand skimmed along with each book before coming to a halt at a bottle of perfume. He took the glass bottle in his hands inspecting the small black ribbon tied around the lid. He sprayed it once, the scent sprinkling the air around him. It’s like bits and pieces floating in the very back of his head, jumbled and disoriented. He felt tears prickle the corner of his eyes, his eyes welling up out of pure frustration. It wasn’t some magical feeling in which memories suddenly flooded back, it seemed as though no matter how significant or special something might be it doesn’t change the fact it’s _gone_. 

Fuck, he doesn’t even remember his own wedding, _his husband_. It felt fraudulent, as though he couldn’t completely trust that anything he ever thinks he remembers is even real. It could easily be something his mind fabricated and made him believe was real. 

What if what he and Minho once had was anything but happy? What if it was _painful_ , traumatic, and loveless? 

He wouldn’t know.

_He hated it_ . He hated the feeling of not knowing; not understanding or truly knowing _anything_ he once did. He wiped his dry, irritated eyes placing the perfume back in its place, noticing a single polaroid being held up by a small cat sculpture accompanied by a matching squirrel one, he carefully picked it up examining the picture. 

It was himself; lying down with a wide toothy smile, the background was bright green grass. His hair was orange and abnormally long, he stared in distaste at the sight of his untamed hair. He flipped over the polaroid and in small neat handwriting;

_‘i love you angel, love from lee minho’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow writing the song part was really difficult, in honesty I'm still not sure i like it but there's not much else i can think of to improve it right now. it's so hard to express such profound feelings, i might double update today so look forward to that!


End file.
